


All Kinds of Sense

by AkisMusicBox



Category: Skip Beat!
Genre: Anger Management, Dark Moon, F/M, First Aid, Mentions of Violence, Passive-aggression, Post Act 81, Swearing, Thoughts of revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25592947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkisMusicBox/pseuds/AkisMusicBox
Summary: Ren made the mistake of assuming Kyoko was telling the truth about the bandage on her cheek. Then, Fuwa appears on the set of Dark Moon.This is a re-imaging of the events around Act 81 and 82.
Relationships: Mogami Kyoko/Tsuruga Ren
Comments: 16
Kudos: 97





	All Kinds of Sense

**Author's Note:**

> First person, present tense? Is that really you writing, Aki? Yep, examine the sheer amounts of angst and introspection and you'll see it. 
> 
> I'm doing a re-read of the series and I couldn't help myself after I read these chapters. Late-night one-shots FTW! 
> 
> Just reminder of the events up until this point: Kyoko meets Vie Ghoul for the first time, confronts Sho about loosing to them, and Sho slaps her. The next day, Ren sees Kyoko at the agency, asks her about the bandage on her cheek, and he drives her to the set of Dark Moon.

"I messed up a little at work yesterday," is what she said to me.

And I just believed that.

True, we have worked through questions about honesty in the past. I have nothing to worry about -- she is focused on her career. Not love. Not vengeance.

True, she always puts too much of herself in her work, just like I do. So her getting a minor injury should not seem suspicious.

But then, someone on set mentions her on Japonet Scope.

And then, Fuwa appears. He wants to speak to her privately.

I just don't want to deal with Yashiro's reactions. I just don't want anyone to see me get annoyed. I can't lose to someone on something I'm not competing with them for, that's obvious.

So I am just going to leave.

But then I see the package in his hand. That F1 ointment has been supplied by any stunt coordinator worth their salt since I've worked in the industry. I've used it enough.

Fuwa is involved with her injury; I know it.

Of course, she'd lie to me about Fuwa. If he was even present, she'd lie. If he was inadvertently the cause, she'd lie. If he was the perpetrator...

My career would be over if she didn't lie.

I have no goddamn proof. I can't read from her ever-souring mood to what degree of guilty he is. At the very least, he is here, distracting her from her work.

Trying to act like he cares.

He is a fucking bad actor, so it can't be much of an act. It has to stem from some semblance of truth, but he can't attempt to curry a crumb of favor after he'd been tossing his plate on the ground for years. Shattering her for years.

So when his arm moves out, slowly revealing the package, it takes every ounce of my self-control to walk leisurely over to the scene. To stand in front of him, between _them,_ and have my hand reach to his.

"How thoughtful," I say, syrup-thick, the sweetness trying to mask the color. "Though more beneficial to apply shortly after an injury." I can feel the tension from both sides, Fuwa and Kyoko, stiff and coiled and waiting. Just waiting. Because they don't know what I am going to do.

I don't know either.

I reach for the packet with one hand, but with the other I wrap it around his, trapping his fingers. His scrawny hand is easy to envelop. To feel just how weak it is, how easy it would be for me to forever disrupt _his_ career prospects as he had Kyoko's is terrifying.

And Fuwa's eyes betray that terror, too.

"Kyoko's lucky to have people who care about her so much, isn't she?" I say with a grin and a vigorous shake, tightening the vice of my hand as dread slowly drips in his eyes.

Only when he says, "I suppose," in a labored tone do I let go.

I take the packet and palm it between my hands. "Spreads more evenly when it's warmed. Thanks again."

Fuwa gives one wild glance around me, to the source of ice and fury that rages behind me. "Right. Bye."

He leaves. I turn.

Kyoko is _trying_ to be angry with me. Her face scrunches, her ears reddening, her eyes stare daggers at me, but she can't muster full outrage. There is still confusion; she is still trying to determine what I know.

That is fine. Her focus can be on me, all of it. Puzzle me for a time.

"I don't want anything from him," she growls. "Why'd you take it?"

"He was going to cause a problem if he was allowed to be here any longer." Honesty is refreshing. I hold up the packet. "This stuff is nothing special. I was going to find you some on set while you got in costume. A small price to pay to just take his and get things moving along in my opinion."

Tension starts dissolving from her eyes. She nods. "That makes sense."

I tear the packet open. "There's a technique for applying this so it works smoothly with your makeup. May I?"

Lips slightly part; she nods again. Apparently, I'm making all kinds of sense today.

 _I'm going to hell._ My fingers graze her cheek, stopping at the bandage. She closes her eyes, by God she closes them and it is almost too much.

Not for me to kiss her. For my heart to shatter.

I pry off the bandage. The smallest wince, but she doesn't open her eyes. _She trusts me._

It isn't a scrape like she had tripped. A cut, longer than an accident. _A ring, a fingernail, a --_

I squeeze a dab on my finger. I cannot shake. I cannot let her feel any of the heat bubbling inside of me. Heat burns. It does not discriminate who is in its proximity. My hand must not betray me or in any way be akin to Fuwa's.

I touch the ointment to the wound. I smooth a line over it, and then one more because she smells like peach and coconut. Or because the cut is deeper than I first guessed. Maybe the first excuse distracts me from regrets about not breaking fingers.

The last bit, the bit where I blow a small breath of air to help it dry, will be torture in retrospect. Is something I can't let myself regret at that moment.

Her eyes don't open.

But she swallows. Very visibly, very audibly.

 _I'm going to hell_ the lump in my throat screams.


End file.
